


great minds (love alike)

by starklystar



Series: 101 ways to propose [5]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starklystar/pseuds/starklystar
Summary: Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.“Are you – are you proposing to me withmy ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.---Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: 101 ways to propose [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793032
Comments: 31
Kudos: 507





	great minds (love alike)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts).



> sorry it took so long! this was supposed to be fluffy crack but it devolved into emotional fluff and then spiralled out of control. hope you enjoy it! edit: dslkgnslk i missed a sentence last night, but it's now fixed :)

“Tony?” Steve peers into the workshop, placing his motorcycle helmet on a table by the doors.

He had gone straight up from the garage to the Tony’s workshop, weary from a day filled with politicians trying to gain his favour or his access to the world’s most powerful businessman. Steve scoffs at the thought. He’s not letting Tony anywhere near their grubby hands.

But with his energy drained, all Steve wants is a hug from Tony.

Crestfallen at the clear absence of his boyfriend, Steve slumps heavily into one of the workshop chairs, wondering where Tony went.

Idly, Steve picks up a stray tool from the table next to him. It’s a wooden bench pin. Steve spins it in his hand for a moment before putting it back down. Tony only used the pin for doing detailed metalwork, and Steve couldn’t wait to listen to him talk about his latest brilliant creation.

“JARVIS, where’s Tony?”

“Sir is in your shared bedroom, Captain.”

 _Much better_ , Steve smiles to himself. If Tony was already in the bedroom, he wouldn’t need to wait to usher him into bed for hugs.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve gives a nod to the closest camera. But when he moves to stand up, a glint of silver catches his eye. His gaze flicks down to the tabletop, clocking the bench pin he’d put down earlier, a compass, a small black box, and –

A ring.

Next to the little box is a ring.

It could be a ring for one of Tony’s machines, Steve dismisses, but when he picks it up to peer at it, there are delicate gold inlays carved into the silver, a work of artful dedication.

“JARVIS?” Steve calls again, less confident this time.

“Captain.”

“Is this – did Tony make me an engagement ring?”

A silent pause. “Perhaps I could call Sir down?”

“That isn’t necessary.” Steve insists. He doesn't need Tony to come here. He just needs to know. “Is this an engagement ring?” he asks again.

“Yes,” JARVIS confirms.

The answer comes reluctantly, JARVIS protective as ever of Tony’s heart, and yet the single word is enough to jolt Steve’s tired bones awake again.

Tony made an engagement ring for him. And Steve is holding the ring Tony made for him.

Steve’s first thought is: _no._

His second thought is: he needs to get to their bedroom, _now_.

* * *

Tony sighs.

Folding socks isn’t his usual choice of activity on a Thursday night. But he knew that Steve would come home tired tonight and Tony hadn’t had a breakthrough with his armor circuitry problem yet, so he might as well do this for Steve. Make Steve’s day a little less exhausting.

Because folding socks and washing the dishes had always been something they bickered about – Tony never understood why they couldn’t just use the dishwasher, or why they couldn’t just leave the socks in a pile to use tomorrow.

Yeah, Rhodey never quite got over the trauma of being Tony’s roommate.

Eventually they learned compromise: while Steve folded the socks, Tony used the dishwasher. One of these days, Tony will replace all their clothes with nanotech – less time folding, more time for… fondue-ing.

Until he manages to convince Steve about that, though, Tony dutifully opens the drawer to put the neatly folded socks in.

Well. They were as neat as Tony could make them.

Taking the pair of Iron Man socks first, he grins as he reaches up to blindly put the sock in the drawer. Steve had several Iron Man clothes, and he wore them when he wanted to make Tony blush or when he wanted to rile the conservative reporters up.

He tucks the next sock in, frowning when it doesn’t fit. With a groan, he uncrosses his legs, kneeling up to get a better view of the drawer.

Glaring at the drawer, Tony tries to squeeze the socks next to the scarves – why Steve puts his scarves in the same drawer as his socks, Tony will never understand – but it doesn’t fit. Huffing, he shifts the scarves around, and –

His hand hits something hard, something small. Shuffling around some more, his fingers close around a soft box, fishing it out.

The box is unfamiliar, and Tony feels his brows furrowing deeper. Did Steve buy a new set of cufflinks?

Curious, he flips the box open –

_What?_

Tony’s breath hitches.

There’s a golden ring in the box.

Understanding comes slowly. He blinks rapidly, mind scrambling to understand. There’s a ring in Steve’s drawer. Steve _has a ring_ in his drawer.

Carefully, Tony brushes his fingers against it, featherlight and afraid to touch. 

How long has the ring been there? Was the ring meant for Tony?

He thinks of the ring he’d just finished making for Steve, left lying on his table for the metal to cool. The design had drawn itself in Tony’s mind months ago, and Tony had pushed it back, unsure that Steve would even consider marrying Tony.

They had lasted through rocky months and steady years, but marriage was a deeper commitment. Something that Tony knew Steve valued and dreamed of. It was also something Tony feared and _wanted_ – for all the wrong reasons, and for all the right reasons.

But if this ring was meant for Tony, then did that mean Steve was ready to marry Tony, too? _Why_ was Tony panicking if Steve wanted to marry him?

The ring _is_ beautiful. Perfect. The simplicity of it mixed with the strength of the metal is a subtle balance between Steve’s steadiness and Tony’s unyielding nature. When Tony thought of the ring for Steve, he never imagined what his own ring would be like, whether theirs would match or not. It simply wasn’t relevant to consider.

Now, seeing the ring Steve had chosen, Tony feels a swell of warmth blossoming in his chest.

The wood panels of their bedroom floor press hard against Tony’s battered knees, but he can’t bring himself to move.

He doesn’t know how such a little thing could send him falling again for a man he’s already so deeply in love with. Tony doesn’t have a speech prepared, doesn’t have anything much to offer Steve except money and his old, broken heart.

But Steve has never cared about Tony’s money, and Tony never thought his heart could be a match for someone who loved as wholly, softly, fiercely as Steve did. Yet, here was proof otherwise.

And no matter how many times the two of them bickered and fought, Tony trusted Steve as his leader and his equal and his partner.

If Steve thought that Tony – that they _both_ deserved this happiness, then surely Tony must deserve this.

He should put this golden ring down and go back to the ring in his workshop. He’s pretty sure their schedules were clear for the weekend. A proposal warranted something special.

Tony could take Steve out to Paris, or have a home-cooked dinner here. They both enjoyed the luxury of having enough time to cook together at home. No glamour, no superheroes, just Steve and Tony bumping elbows as they cut vegetables together.

All he needed was to make sure that –

“Tony?”

He freezes at Steve’s voice.

When did Steve get home? And –

Tony is still holding the ring. _Oh no._

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

His heart misses a beat.

He can’t just pretend he hasn’t seen the ring. He’s too keyed up to even _think_ , much less pretend in front of the person who knows him best in the world.

“ _Tony?_ ” Steve calls more insistently this time, and suddenly, Tony has no more chances to hide, because Steve is standing there, at their bedroom door, hair ruffled and still wearing the black leather jacket he’d gone out with this morning.

“Hey, honey,” Tony greets as calmly, as innocently as he can. “How was your – _where did you get that?_ ”

His voice raises up a pitch, high and panicked, because Steve is holding _the_ ring.

The ring Tony had left in the workshop.

That’s not supposed to happen.

But Tony is holding Steve’s ring and he's guessing that wasn't supposed to happen either. 

Tony bites his lip.

They stare at the rings in each other’s hand.

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with _my ring for you_?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and equally confused.

“I’m kneeling because I’m tidying up your sock drawer, Steven,” Tony says indignantly, scrambling up from his knees to stand properly. “ _You’re_ also here with my ring for you,” he adds, pointing in accusation.

“At least I didn’t leave it out in the open for anyone to find,” Steve crosses his arms, cradling his ring close to his heart. “I put your ring in a safe drawer because I thought you _hate_ tidying up socks.”

“Apparently I love you more than I hate doing the laundry,” Tony snaps back, equally defensive. It’s not his fault he thought Steve wouldn’t come home this early. “The sock drawer is hardly the safest place to hide things either.”

Steve shrugs. His lips twitch up as some of his own confusion and panic melts away into fondness.

“Well, it’s been there for three years and you’ve only found it now.”

“Three _years_?” Tony repeats stupidly, his heart thundering faster, louder in his ears. How can Steve be _smiling?_ “We’ve only been dating for three years. Is this someone else’s ring? Is it – ”

Steve crosses the room in three strides, cutting Tony off in the most effective way he knows: a long, hard kiss. Tony’s eyes flutter shut, and he keeps them closed even when Steve shifts to press a kiss on Tony’s temple too.

“Our second date, we were interrupted by the Serpent Society’s attack,” Steve explains. “One of the shops destroyed was a jewellery store. I helped them clean up. The owner asked me to pick something and I was going to say no but I saw that ring and I just thought of how beautiful it’d look on your hand.”

They’ve been friends, teammates, for years before they finally started dating. The world knows that. But this? This tilted everything Tony thought he knew about them.

Learning that Steve had been ready to promise the rest of his life to Tony all this time, even during those early months when they had both still been too full of sharp edges cutting into each other, it leaves a rawness in Tony that threatens to unravel him completely. 

He had wasted these years doubting himself, worrying about how far Steve's love stretched before Tony would inevitably break it. But if Steve had been sure of marrying Tony since the very beginning, what had stopped him from asking?

What was it about Tony that made Steve hesitate for years, hiding this part of his love from Tony?

Tony bites down on his lip harder, needing the sharp sting to ground him.

Steve notices, though – Steve _always_ notices – and he brushes his thumb along the corner of Tony’s lips until Tony stops hurting himself.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Tony questions, not bothering to hide the tremble in his voice.

There is no need to hide from Steve. There never has been any need, he realises.

Steve moves his hand to cup the curve of Tony’s jaw, its warmth a safety and a comfort. “You wouldn’t have believed me,” he tells Tony, all truth and no hesitation. “When I ask you to marry me, I want you to be sure that I love you. I want to have proven to you, without a doubt, that you have me in all the ways you could ask for, and in all the ways you would never ask for.”

“I don’t – I – that could take forever.”

 _I don’t deserve you_ , Tony nearly says, but his gaze drops to the ring box in his hand, its dark velvet smooth against his rough calluses.

“ _Tony_.” The dip of Steve’s voice as he says the name is commanding and soothing all at once. “On days when everything feels too much, I still want more of you. And on days like today when I’m so tired, I find you here doing my laundry even when you hate it. You grump and groan about it, but you are the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”

“Stop it,” Tony tries to bat him away. “I refuse to cry on a Thursday.”

“ _Grumpy_ ,” Steve teases, easily holding Tony close. Determined, Steve continues. “I’m the luckiest man in the world if I got just the smallest fraction of your heart, Tony, but you chose to give me all of it. If it takes forever for me to prove that you have all of me too, then I’m more than ready to out-stubborn you.”

“Don’t challenge me like that,” Tony deflects. He’s fighting a losing battle against the tears pricking his eyes. “You know I’m more stubborn than you.”

“Then don’t call my fella undeserving,” Steve shoots back.

That’s, dammit, Steve _knew_ what that accent did to Tony.

He feels himself flushing, lips curving up to one side without him quite meaning to. It’s unfair how easily Steve can make him smile.

Tony huffs. “You’re a horrible man.”

Steve holds up the ring Tony made, a satisfied half-smirk lighting up his eyes. “I must have done _something_ right for you to make me this masterpiece.”

“You trained DUM-E out of using the fire extinguisher. You deserved a reward,” Tony's proud when he barely stumbles through the reply, and as Steve laughs, bright and carefree, Tony feels the tightness in his throat ease.

Supersoldier or not, Tony can see the marks of weariness in Steve. The slight slump of his shoulders, the hint of a shadow beneath his eyes.

That Tony had been able to make Steve so happy despite his clear exhaustion, it must say something about how highly Steve held Tony in his heart, mustn’t it?

Steve is speaking again, but Tony can only stare at the golden ring in his hand, wrapping his head around the fact that it’s been there in the drawer next to their bed for three years.

Every morning as Steve kissed Tony goodbye before he went off for his morning run, it was waiting there, faithful and patient.

And every night as Steve traced every curve, every scar, every inch of Tony’s skin, promising sweet dreams of a future together, the ring had been sitting there, ready for when Tony would finally believe in its promise.

Because Steve had meant everything when he said that he loved Tony.

If Tony can truly make Steve as happy as Steve makes Tony, then Tony shouldn’t let his fears or his past stop them from being happy together. It would be the height of foolishness to let go of something as true and unshakeable as this.

“I love you,” Tony breathes out.

That’s an acceptable way to start a proposal, right? He just needs a few more words to describe the way Steve made every part of Tony’s life better.

Steve smiles, bemused. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Tony pauses, stuck between the thousands of thoughts flitting through his mind and the hammering of his heart. _To hell with words_ , Tony thinks. He can wax poetic when he says his vows. Now is only a matter of a single question that he already knows the answer to. “Steve, will you do me the honor of – ” 

“No.”

The answer is short and final.

Abruptly, Tony’s mind falls silent, blank and uncomprehending.

_No?_

For what feels like the millionth time today, Tony reels back in confusion. This time, though, the confusion is muddled by a heavy dread, coldness creeping in his heart.

“You won’t marry me?”

The question comes out small, more fearful than Tony wants to admit.

Steve shakes his head firmly. “I’ve been waiting _three years_ to ask you. You’re not allowed to ask me first.”

Tony sniffs. “I hate you.” Didn’t Steve know that Tony had a heart condition?

“Thought you said you love me.”

The reply comes so petulantly that Tony’s lips twitch up again. _God_ , he loves Steve so much, he’s ready to fold socks and wash dishes for the rest of his life. This warmth, Tony realises with more clarity than ever, this warmth was worth fighting all his fears and doubts for.

“I do love you,” Tony says. The words come out steady, now, buoyed by his trust in their affection for each other. “However, I do recall that _I_ was the one kneeling first.”

Steve drops down to one knee, obliging. He offers up the ring in his hand. “Tony Stark, will you marry me?”

“No,” Tony crosses his arms pointedly. “You’re still proposing to me with my ring for you.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Steve defends himself wryly.

Nevertheless, Steve holds out his free hand, wordlessly asks for his ring from Tony, and Tony looks down into his blue, _blue_ eyes, caught by the light dancing in them.

He reluctantly hands Steve the ring box, not wanting to let go of it, but in return he takes the ring he had made for Steve, its metal warm from Steve’s touch.

“ _Now_ ,” Steve starts again with a rueful smile, offering the golden ring up to Tony, “will you finally marry me?”

“Only if you’ll let me build a sock-folding robot.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Tony’s breath stutters when Steve gently takes his hand and slips the ring on.

The weight of it is unfamiliar, but when Steve raises Tony’s hand to his lips to press a kiss across the ring, the weight feels _right_ , and Tony sinks down to his own knees, desperately pulling Steve in for a proper kiss.

He wants this forever.

His gaze darts back towards his hand, marvelling at the ring there. “It _does_ look beautiful,” Tony agrees when they break the kiss.

Steve's eyes gleam with pride and satisfaction. “I have a good eye,” he declares. “I picked you, didn’t I?”

“No backing out of this, Rogers,” Tony teases, the last of his doubts still lingering.

“It’ll be Rogers- _Stark_ , soon” Steve corrects quickly.

In the end, it's the soft amusement in Steve’s eyes that calms the frayed edges of Tony’s nerves and coaxes his doubts to fade away. “Why not Stark-Rogers?” Tony dares to ask.

“We can decide that after you give me my ring,” Steve demands sternly, and Tony laughs, acquiescing.

He slips his ring onto Steve’s finger too. His breath hitches when Steve smiles down at it, and, abruptly, seeing the ring on Steve’s hand flicks a switch in his mind.

It crashes down onto him all at once, the reality of it.

They were getting _married_.

Tony thinks of their names side by side, how their names would be written together in history books, remembered forever, never one without the other.

And if they ever chose to have children, their legacy would be shared in the same breath and the same thought.

Stark-Rogers. Rogers-Stark. Two stars dancing in the same constellation.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I want a spring wedding.”

“Anything for you,” Steve kisses him again.

Nevermind. Tony doesn’t think he can wait until spring.

“Actually, let’s go to City Hall right now.”

Steve laughs fondly. He reaches out to tangle their hands together, their rings clinking against each other, full of hope and promise. “It’s eight in the evening, sweetheart. Pretty sure they’re closed.”

“I can make them open now.”

“What about a bath and then bed?” Steve bargains instead.

Tony tugs at Steve’s hand, squeezing it tighter. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Steve huffs. “I could carry you.”

“You’re tired,” Tony argues.

“Never too tired for you,” Steve promises, lifting Tony up easily in his arms and walking them into the bathroom. “Least I could do after you folded my socks.”

Tucking his head into the crook of Steve’s shoulder, Tony makes a noise of disagreement. “That was a one-time thing, Steven. I’m not becoming your housewife.”

“I know,” Steve’s chin bobs against the top of Tony’s head as he nods. “But did you by any chance check the bottom drawer?”

“No, why?”

Steve hums innocently. “That’s where I keep the lace.”

Tony’s head shoots back up, the sudden movement swaying them both. He pokes indignantly at Steve’s chest. “How long have you been hiding _that?_ ”

“Definitely more than three years,” Steve grins wide, unrepentant.

 _Well_ , Tony thinks decidedly.

He _might_ be persuaded to do the laundry a few more times.

**Author's Note:**

> also on [tumblr](https://starklysteve.tumblr.com/post/623455585703247872/hi-i-just-read-a-merrier-world-and-im-in-love) :)


End file.
